


Morituro

by AnaliseGrey



Series: Liminal Set [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Foreknowledge of Death, Gen, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:55:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22273684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaliseGrey/pseuds/AnaliseGrey
Summary: It's borrowed time, all of it.
Series: Liminal Set [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1603309
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Morituro

**Author's Note:**

> _morituro_ \- of someone who is next or destined to die

It’s borrowed time, all of it.

It’s not his intention to go so quickly- anyone who knows him even reasonably well knows how much of a thirst for life he has- but as is often the case, life rarely cares what anyone _intends_.

It isn’t a surprise, either. He doesn’t quite believe in destiny, rankles against the idea that things are predetermined, that the grand structure of the universe is immutable, unchangeable. He’s based so much of his life, short though it’s been, on the idea that _anything_ is changeable if you try, that you can remake yourself, change your ways, and _become_ \- something, some _one_ \- different.

But the threads don’t lie.

They don’t always show, aren’t always visible, and he’s never told anyone about them, not even Yasha. But he _sees_ them, the little threads that connect the universe, connect the people around him, that tie this little group together into the delightfully tangled knot it’s becoming.

Even after the others are taken, he sees the threads, leading off to the distance, and knows they are, if not in a _good_ place, they’re at least alive, with a low likelihood of immediate danger.

He tries not to focus on his own thread, shorter by far and frayed at the ends, spattered in a deep crimson that nobody else sees. Tries not to wonder how or when it will happen, whether he’ll get to see the others one last time, whether or not he’ll have the chance to say goodbye.

He doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse to know, to watch the end of his thread approach, knowing he won’t see out the end of the story with the rest. Hoping that he’s made a difference, hoping that even in the short time he was around that he left a mark, however small.

Hopes that at the very least he’ll be remembered, that he won’t disappear from memory completely.

It’s a stupid thing to do, and he knows it; he can’t help but give an internal nod to the irony of self-fulfilling prophecy, wonders if this would have happened, if things would have turned out differently if he couldn’t See, if he didn’t _know_.

But it’s too late, now. The end of his thread is at-hand, almost close enough to touch, and as the glaive comes down and _twists_ , he reaches for it, and-

**Author's Note:**

> What a way to start a series, huh?
> 
> This is the first piece in a series of stories based off the list in [this tumblr post](https://shannaraisles.tumblr.com/post/178246864645/writing-challenge-prompt-list).


End file.
